Baron Nora stood with her retainers just beyond the village gates, her hands folded before her and a gentle smile painted on her lips.
"Thank you for staying with us, Lord Kyle. If there's anything you need in the future, anything at all, you can always ask me. My doors will remain open."
She said, her voice formal and respectful.
Kyle, standing beside his mounted horse, nodded coolly.
"I'll remember that."
As she spoke, more and more villagers emerged from their homes. Men, women, and even children lined the streets to see Kyle and his forces off.
But there was no gratitude in their eyes. No reverence or admiration. What glared at Kyle was raw resentment—bitterness etched into every face.
The atmosphere turned oppressive, the air thick with silent accusations.
Their gazes followed Kyle like daggers, some so sharp he could feel them pressing against his skin.
